Jenny, why don’t you like me?
Your curing smile – and your prude two-pin
clips, that catch the scene
The beauty of me, wrapped
in a box-notch day dream,
under a humble tree-
Jenny, why do you hate me?
Is it my crooked smile and my overpowering bluets,
or the blood left behind from a scab that has washed down your shoes.
But you’re humble, and I’m just a brute
a brute can’t spawn amongst one who can shoot
wishes and answers, but what is the matter
when a man sides two and a brute can’t move
because of his stumbling thoughts.
please take away my thoughts.
Jenny, why do you look away?
I guess my aura is unsatisfactory,
or that you expected more,
more than what you got from treading my door
down with your claws and your anger
which is fuelled with the energy
I’ve loaned you – you have taken my thoughts
but none of which you’ve bought
because I gave them for free
and you took them for keeps
but now I have lost the sheets
to cover my face, my mind, all that is left behind
is my true being – my endless curfew
of nothingness and emptiness
Jenny, could you possibly relate?
To what I went through,
to what you saw new
and wanted to stray from
but now glad you stayed numb
to endure my ideas, my scrawny scratch
of thoughts you could have passed
down to the others, but you amassed
a sense of empathy – one that couldn’t last
Because I saw through your thoughts Jenny,
you took mine and I took yours
you thought you stole from me but I stole more
I deceived you and I lied with an open snide
laughing at the remarks, I cannot lie
about the comments that are thrown our way
and now you can stay
Jenny, you know we’re alike
With our bumbling bothers
and our discount fathers
who we don’t deserve
but push to the curve
with our cute manoeuvres.
I know you don’t want to get hurt,
neither do I,
but one day you’ll burn
yourself – hiding from the pain you wish
you didn’t have to hide
And now you’ve evolved
from a picked down ball
into kindness and deceptiveness.
But it doesn’t matter,
since you haven’t been shattered
because you protected yourself
all that ye may.
You now tread the way
followed by those with no shame
all in apparent good faith
around deception lane.